The ice of Taiye Pond cracked like a net, and crane feathers fell in front of the emperor's couch.
Xiao Chengyu came through the snow and hid in the cold for twelve years.
The eyes of father and son touched each other with a heart-piercing look.
The beacon fire at the border has been burning, and the truth is like a lonely crane hovering in the dark night, its cry is shrill.
Between patricide and questioning, hot paranoia and cold machinations collide, and the blood of the imperial family ends up being colder than snow.
Intention: None